


on a cliffside

by hholocene



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-08 03:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14095926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hholocene/pseuds/hholocene
Summary: Jon and Dany learn a bit more about each other. A collection of missing scenes from season 7.Latest chapter: Dany shares a painful memory from her past with Jon and comes to a realisation. Circa, sometime on that boat.





	1. 7x03: Past Loves

‘Tyrion said you had a fondness for brooding, but I thought he may have exaggerated,’ Daenerys says as she walks to the solitary figure on the cliff edge.

 

Jon glances at her, his expression briefly morphing into a scowl, before he returns his gaze towards the ocean.

 

‘Are you always so dour, Lord Snow? I thought perhaps you might be happier with my offer of dragonglass.”

 

“I am grateful, Your Grace,’ Jon returns flatly. He is looking intently at her now. ‘But if you had looked into the Night King’s eyes as I have done, and watched him massacre thousands and then raise them from the dead, then you would be as dour as I am. An army of the dead marches towards us, and  _ my people _ , will be the first to perish if I cannot save them.”

 

Daenerys tries to restrain an eye roll. Did he never think about anything else aside from this Night King and his army of the dead?

 

“You may be preoccupied with this army of the dead, Lord Snow, I understand. But Cersei Lannister is your enemy too. She is a mad women, cruel and selfish. Westeros suffers under her reign.”

 

“I know what Cersei Lannister is,” Jon says gruffly, anger seeping into his voice. “I have no goodwill towards the Lannisters.”

 

“Do you not seek revenge? The Lannisters are responsible for  _ much _ , if not all, of your family’s suffering.”

 

Jon glowers back.

 

“My father taught me to be dutiful, and  _ I know my duty _ . The Great War is upon us, there is no time for revenge or petty wars over the Iron Throne,” he retorts back, voice simmering with frustration and barely veiled anger.

 

Daenerys shakes her head lightly, an unspoken end to the existing thread of conversation. She has never met a man so single-mindedly concerned with  _ duty _ .

 

She averts her gaze to the sky, searching for her children. She wonders why he remains, standing next to her, eyes averted and visibly seething. Maybe she can offer him a show.

 

She beckons her children closer, pulling at their mental teather. 

 

A faint roar in the distance echoes, and then a thunderous grumble as three dragons emerge from the sky.

 

To her side, she watches the fear flash on Jon’s face for a moment, until he scrambles for his stoic facade.

 

_ He hides his fear better than most _ , she thinks.

 

The dragons fly closer, swooping and turning to impress their mother and the visitor next to her. She cannot help but smile brightly, Queenly graces forgotten.

 

Jon has been watching closely too - the dragons and their mother.

 

“The large one, what is his name?” he asks.

 

“Drogon,” she answers. “Named after my late husband, Khal Drogo.”

 

A puzzled look comes across Jon’s face.

 

“You seem confused.”

 

Jon shakes his head, his hesitance evident.

 

“I thought Northmen spoke plainly,” she says pointedly, turning her gaze into a withering stare.

 

“Forgive me if I am overstepping, but the rumours that came to Westeros spoke of a young girl sold to a Horse Lord,” Jon pauses, weighing his words carefully. “The Dothraki are not known for their kindness, I did not expect it to be such a favourable match.”

 

Daenerys assesses him and sees his words are sincere. The man before her is not one for deception, that much is becoming clear. 

 

“It wasn’t at the beginning but I learnt to be a Khaleesi,” she explains. “The Dothraki follow strength and I am the blood of the dragon. Who is stronger than a dragon?” she muses.

 

A faraway look takes hold of her. A flash of a young girl on another cliff edge, on the precipices of losing her innocence. Before he became her sun and stars, he was another man who hurt her.

 

“It was an adjustment,” she tells him honestly, pushing aside the fleeting pain that strikes her.  “But I make my own destiny, Jon Snow.”

 

She holds his gaze with her head held high. A dragon’s defiance burning through. He does not shy away, looking back at her with an imperceptible expression. 

 

He hums lightly. A quiet grumble.

 

“I don’t doubt it,” he says at last. He isn’t condescending, nor is he reverent. He seems indifferent and it annoys her more than she understands.

 

She wants to push and pick and unravel this King in the North. For now, she lets it slide.

 

“Drogo grew to love me, and I him,” she continues on. “He promised me the Seven Kingdoms and had he lived, he would have succeeded.” There is a wry, depreciating twist to her smile, when she adds with an afterthought, “With more bloodshed, perhaps.” 

 

To her surprise, he returns her joking smile. It emboldens her.

 

“Tell me, my Lord, do you have a woman waiting for you back in Winterfell?”

 

His expression sours instantly.

 

“No,” he answers curtly. It reveals more than he had intended. Daenerys knows loss only too well to read that grimace on his face.

 

“Who was she?” she asks, softenness battling a pressing curiosity.

 

Wild eyes stared back at her.  _ She’s angered him _ .

 

She expected admonishment, not an admission.

 

“Ygritte,” he revealed, the words strained under his thick Northern accent. He swallowed, failing to mask the pain he feels. “She was a wildling.”

 

Without another word, he turned and walked away.


	2. 7x04: A Queen's Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany discuss the Queen's safety.
> 
> 7x04: some point after the beach scene and before she leaves for battle.

He isn’t sure why he is here on this cliff, yet again.

 

It is to brood, as Tyrion likes to say and as he tries to convince himself now. But he had seen her figure in the distance and his feet had moved of their own accord.

 

Her dragons surrounded her and in the air, words of Old Valyria mingle with the relentless wind.

 

He stands for a while, contemplating whether he should approach closer or wait for her to come to him. He sees her head turn and their eyes met. An understanding passes between them.

 

Within moments, the dragons are taking to the skies.

 

“What does the King in the North want?” she says. Her tone is teasing, and her eyes are daring - he knows that she says his title in jest but something tightens in him nevertheless.

 

He looks to the ground, searching for the answer to that question.

 

“Why did you ask for my counsel today?”

 

She raises her eyebrows -  _ is that what he came here to ask? _

 

“I value people’s opinions,” she says as though it is the most obvious thing. “Besides, Varys tells me you are familiar with war. You have valuable insight.”

 

He frowns at her words.

 

“War is an ugly thing,” he states. 

 

She takes a step closer.

 

“My allies have been killed or captured. They placed their trust in me and so far, I have failed them. I cannot do nothing now. I must react,” she declares fiercely. 

 

In the darkening night sky, she can just about make out the nod of his head.

 

“I understand that,” Jon returns.

 

She huffs slightly, her frustration from earlier still evidently with her.

 

“I am not a tyrant, nor am I mad,” she tells him. “I will do all I can to protect innocents but my enemies  _ will _ answer to fire and blood.”

 

“I do not think you are a tyrant or mad,” he clarifies profusely.

 

There’s a flash of surprise on her face at his earnestness. But then, Jon Snow is always earnest.

 

She sighs and looks away. She has 3 grown dragons, the Unsullied and the Khalasar of Khalasars - this was meant to be easy.

 

“Will you mount Drogon?” Jon asks cautiously. 

 

Daenerys smiles at that.

 

“Yes,” she says proudly. “It will be the second time I mount him into battle.”

 

“Only your second?” he lets slip and from the faint scowl that appears on Daenerys’s face, he knows it was a misstep. There is something of an unspoken freeness between them but the doubt that she might burn him at the spot still lingers.

 

“I didn't mean to imply -- I do not doubt your capability, I only meant,” Jon swallows nervously. He realises at that point that he is indeed  _ worried  _ for the Queen’s safety. “It seems like a dangerous thing, riding a dragon.”

 

She chuckles, her previous iciness fading away.

 

“More dangerous for the other side, don’t you think?”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” he replies. “I’ve never faced a dragon, and I hope I never have to.”

 

A taunt to bend the knee is on her lips but when she sees his lips twitch upwards ever so slightly, she can’t help but follow suit.

 

“When I’m in the skies with my children, I feel an immense sense of peace wash over me,” Dany confides. “Looking on to the world below you, feeling the rush of wind - there is nothing like it. It might seem dangerous, but I have never felt safer.”

 

Jon listens to her speak and observes the wistfulness that takes over her face. She looks innocent, then. She looks  _ young. _ It gnaws at him, the aching urge to protect her.

 

“You mustn’t underestimate the enemy, Your Grace” he warns softly. “One arrow, well aimed with a touch of luck, is all it would take to hurt you.”

 

Dany looks at him, amethyst eyes boring into his grey irises. There’s a lack of acknowledgement in them. She shakes her head lightly, as though he speaks the impossible.

 

“Dragons were meant to fly. We are the strongest in the sky,” she tells him. With a touch of softness, she adds, “Don’t worry, Lord Snow.”


	3. 7x05: Strength and Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen and the King discuss decisions made during war.

The chill in the dining hall is impossible to ignore. The Queen and Lord Tyrion are unusually reticent. It is left to the newly returned Ser Jorah to carry the conversation as they break their fast with the King in the North and his Hand. He recalls old tales from their travels in Essos. From the reverence with which he speaks of the Queen, the depth of his affection is unmistakable. For her part, she brushes his praises aside.

 

When Daenerys finally takes her leave, she turns to the Northern King.

 

“Would you care to join me for a ride this morning, Lord Snow?” she asks. 

 

Jon is surprised and glances at Ser Davos for guidance. 

 

Davos gives him an encouraging nod. Jon is sure he will be hearing some teasing jabs once they are alone.

 

“Aye, I will join you,” Jon consents, though somewhat uncomfortable at the scrutiny everyone is giving him. He doesn’t miss the particularly distrustful look on Ser Jorah’s face.

 

~~~

 

It appears to be an increasingly frequent occurrence that he is alone in the company of Daenerys Targaryen.

 

He is given a beautiful jet black horse while the Queen’s is strikingly white. He expects they may proceed with a gentle canter, but he really should have known better. 

 

Daenerys gives him a smirk, and says, “Let us see if you can ride like a Khal.” And then she is off, breaking into a full gallop. 

 

He curses under his breath but there’s a smile on his lips.

 

He pursues swiftly, keen to impress. They sprint down the rolling hills, an effortless ebb and flow between them as they race side by side. Eventually, Daenerys comes to a stop. She disembarks and lets her horse drink from a nearby stream.

 

“You ride well,” she compliments once Jon joins her. 

 

“As do you,” he returns.

 

Daenerys laughs lightly, “Of course, I am a Khaleesi.”

 

_ Khaleesi _ .  _ Mother of Dragons. Breaker of Chains.  _

 

Daenerys Targaryen is many things, Jon thinks. And none are quite able to encapsulate her. 

 

_ Queen. _

 

That certainly has a ring to it. Of late, he wonders, she has looked like a _ troubled _ Queen.

 

“You seem unhappy,” he remarks.

 

Daenerys lets out a deep, exasperated sigh.

 

“It is nothing,” she tries to downplay. “Tyrion and I...we are having a disagreement.”

 

“About what?”

 

Daenerys hesitates, deliberating her words carefully.

 

“He does not approve of my recent decisions.”

 

Jon gives her his own exasperated look. He is yet to understand the southern manner of speaking in circles.

 

“After we defeated the Lannister forces, I gave the surviving men a choice: bend the knee or die,” Daenerys elaborates.

 

“That is not much of a choice,” Jon says gravely. 

 

Daenerys only glares back at him, reminded of Tyrion’s matching accusation.

 

“I gather most of the men complied,” he notes.

 

“Most. There was a Lord who refused, and his son followed with him. Tyrion urged me to reconsider, but I followed through on my threat.”

 

“Mercy is important,” Jon insists. 

 

“But one must not be afraid to show their strength either. Fear is not enough to inspire a prosperous rule but in times of war, its effectiveness should not be undervalued either. I make an example of a handful of men and by doing so, I discourage a majority from raising their arms. More lives are saved than showing weakness and having the Lords foolishly meet my armies and my dragons on the field.”

 

Jon gives a begrudging huff, seeing the merit of her words yet unable to be in agreement.

 

Daenerys folds her arms and looks away. Frustrated by the doubts that surround her. She desires to be better than those who came before her, yet it is proving to be a complicated and delicate path.

 

“Who was the Lord?” she hears Jon ask.

 

“Tarly,” she answers absentmindedly, her gaze still averted.

 

There is a lull, a moment of pause before she hears the frustrated curse.

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he swears.

 

She looks in his direction and sees a visible grimace.

 

“You knew Randyll Tarly?” she asks quietly, an uncharacteristic lack of confidence taking grip of her.

 

“No. I knew his son.”

 

At that, her face near loses all its colour.

 

“Dickon?”

 

“No,” Jon shakes his head in confusion. “Sam. He served with me in the Night’s Watch. He is a great man, and a dear friend.”

 

“I see,” is all that Daenerys can muster. 

 

She looks away to the distant sea and scans the skies for her dragons. Far, far away, she thinks she may spy Drogon. She takes a breath and wills herself to find strength.

 

She faces him head on and hopes her sincerity seeps through.

 

“I am sorry for your friend’s loss, I do not take death lightly,” she emphasises. “But I am at war. It had to be done.”

 

Disappointment mingled with a sort of understanding greets her back.

 

She walks away to her horse, desperate to be far from the burden of his dissecting eyes.

 

~~~

 

The ride back is silent. A distance lingers between them and he finds it most troubling.

 

“Randyll Tarly was not a kind father,” he hears himself say, riding closer.

 

“It doesn’t seem like many fathers in Westeros are,” she replies wryly.

 

“He threatened to kill Sam if he didn’t go to the Wall,” Jon reveals. Daenerys’ head snaps towards him, looking wholly disgusted.

 

“Why?” 

 

“Sam is not much of a fighter. Though he is brave, and impossibly clever. But it did not matter to his father. He did not want Sam to be the legacy of House Tarly.”

 

“The world is too filled with small-minded men,” Daenerys states bitterly.

 

“I do not know much about his brother, but his father was not a good man.”

 

She observes him closely. He didn’t need to tell her this. The only benefit had been to ease her worries.  _ What did he gain? _ She is befuddled and confused about the mind of this oft-brooding King.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” she decides to ask.

 

“I can see that their deaths are weighing on your mind.”

 

“Every life I take weighs on my mind.”

 

“As it should. It is a heavy burden to rule and to impart justice. We make the best choices that we can, and the right choice is not always clear, even in hindsight. But one can only agonise over them so much.”

 

“You disapproved of my choice, and yet you tell me to worry less. You are a wonder, Jon Snow,” Daenerys muses out loud.

 

“We may not see eye to eye on everything but as much as I can tell, you have a good heart, Your Grace,” he says. Shy and hesitant.

 

There and then, she finds him utterly charming. 

 

She gives him a smile, shy in its own way and conveying a gratitude for words she did not know she needed to hear.

 

“Daenerys,” she corrects on a whim.

 

“What?”

 

A flush of red colours his cheeks.

 

“In private, you may call me Daenerys.”

 

It feels right, she thinks.

 

“ _ Daenerys, _ ” he tests.

 

The word sounds foreign in his Northern drawl.

 

She decides she likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few more ideas in stock. Future updates are likely but might be sporadic.


	4. 7x05: Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany tries to persuade Jon to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my username recently, hope it doesn't cause any confusion.
> 
> Thank you to all for the support so far. I've got two more chapters planned for the time being. Beyond that it will be a question of inspiration.

 

“Walk with me,” she commands. 

 

It is a confusing request but he has no choice but to oblige. He gives the men collecting the dragonglass an apologetic look and follows in her footsteps.

 

She brushes her bloodriders away and the two of them begin walking the length of the beach. Daenerys remains notably quiet.

 

“Are you going to say anything?” he asks.

 

She drags him out here, not saying a word. He has errands he needs to be doing--

 

“Tyrion’s plan is ill thought out,” she speaks at last.

 

Jon sighs -  _ this again _ .

 

“It is the only plan there is.”

 

“That doesn’t mean we have to follow it.”

 

“I have to do something. Otherwise, I am  _ wasting _ my time on this island.”

 

At that, something flashes across her face. It could be mistaken for hurt.

 

“You got your dragonglass,” she coldly points out.

 

“I did,” Jon admits. He senses he has offended her. “You have been most gracious, but the dragonglass alone is not enough. I need  _ you. _ I need your armies and your dragons. But there is no chance of you marching North until this war with Cersei is over, so I will do whatever I can to bring a truce between the two of you.”

 

“That is all good and well, but you are risking your life for a plan that is not going to work.”

 

“Tyrion says it might,” he protests.

 

“Tyrion hasn’t been in the habit of making good decisions lately,” she fumes back. “He thinks he knows his sister, and he might. But I know madness and I know cruelty, I saw it in my brother. You cannot reason with it and least of all, you cannot rely on their goodwill. Cersei doesn’t care about the realm.”

 

“She may not care about the people but she cannot rule over a graveyard either,” Jon states. “She cannot fight the dead on her own. She needs us too.”

 

“She cannot be trusted,” Daenerys emphasises. 

 

“That is a chance we are going to have to take,” Jon retorts back.

 

Daenerys takes a step forward, approaching closer. 

 

_ So close. _

 

“You are a King, Jon. You must realise your worth. You cannot risk your life so recklessly, leading a fool’s errand.”

 

_ A King. _

 

A shiver of lightning runs through his spine.

 

“What kind of King am I if I am not willing to risk my life for my people?” 

 

He throws back her own words to her. He holds her gaze, a wolf facing a dragon.

 

She does not back down.

 

“Think of your family. Your sisters and you brother. They cannot lose you,” she implores. 

 

A flicker of doubt passes through his mind.

 

A yearning to be reunited with Arya and Bran.

 

For a moment, she thinks she has him. 

 

“I must do my duty,” he resolves.

 

“You and your damned honour,” Daenerys groans.

 

He assesses her in curiosity.

 

“I’m surprised you care so much.”

 

He tells himself that she is just being stubborn. A Queen used to getting her way, who is angry at having her wishes denied.

 

But there is another part of him that wants to believe that she  _ cares _ . 

 

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I simply don’t want you to die,” she protests defensively. “Not to mention the fact that if you die while leading a mission advised by  _ my _ Hand, the North would never submit to my rule.”

 

“I’m a difficult man to kill, Daenerys,” he assures. If only she knew the true extent of that statement, he ponders cynically.

 

“I mean it, Jon. You cannot die,” she reiterates, a touch too passionate.

 

She looks at him with such a searing fire, it stirs something in him. Not even Ygritte had looked at him like that.

 

He nods silently, his head too heady for words.

 

“Good, because I have no desire to fight any Northern armies marching south to avenge their King.”

 

Jon lets out a light chuckle.

 

“Sansa would never allow that. She loves me but she is not foolhardy enough to face your dragons.”

 

“You underestimate your value,” Daenerys reminds him.

 

She motions for them to walk back to the castle, already leading the way.

 

“Daenerys, wait,” he calls out. The words are uncomfortable in his throat. “If the hunt is successful and Cersei can be convinced of a truce, will you march North?”

 

Her shoulders slump and her hands clench ever so slightly.

 

“Truthfully, I do not know what I will do,” she admits. “I do not trust her.”

 

“Do you at least believe me about the Night King and the army of the dead?”

 

“It’s all a little too fantastical to believe, isn’t it?”

 

She raises her eyebrows and he feels a bitter disappointment about to swallow him.

 

She assesses him seriously.

 

“But I trust you, Jon. I don’t think you are liar, so yes, I do believe you.”

 

He can feel his chest lighten.

 

“That means a lot,” he admits.

 

More than he can truly understand.


	5. 7x06: Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany contemplates loss.

A malaise of melancholy takes grip of Dragonstone when they return. Daenerys is withdrawn, missing her usual spark. Missandei reassures him that the Queen is strong. Jorah tells him that she has endured much worse. And yet, he cannot help but worry.

 

He seeks her out, finding her alone on the cliffs, save for her dragons.  _ Only two _ , he observes with a pang of regret. The dragons circle around her, a mother and her children drawing comfort from each other. 

 

He waits for her to come to him. He thinks to himself, he would wait a lifetime for her.

 

Finally the dragons bid her goodbye. Their mournful wails echo through the lands. She walks towards him and he can only watch her grief-stricken face with a bristling heart ache.

 

“They miss their brother,” she comments despondently. Jon swallows a lump in his throat.

 

“I am so sorry,” he pleads. She shakes her head; she has told him many times already that she does not blame him.

 

She is distant, lost in her thoughts.

 

“Aerys, Rhaella, Rhaegar, Aegon, Rhaenys, Elia,” she recites. “All dead before I could ever know them. My father may have been evil and my brother had his faults, but my mother, my niece and my nephew, my sister in all but blood, they were  _ good _ . Innocent.”

 

He feels guilty, cognizant about his father’s part in the Rebellion. 

 

“People only saw a dynasty fall but they were my family. Loss is such a curious thing. I never knew my family, but I felt their loss so acutely. How do you mourn something that you never really had?”

 

She looks at him, doe-eyed and devastatingly forlorn.

 

“I don’t know,” he answers. He takes a step closer, and grasps tentatively for her hands. She obliges and lets him hold her hands in his. He exhales a quiet breath of relief. 

 

“My father never told me who my mother was,” he tells her. “As a boy, I spent hours on end thinking about her. Lady Catelyn was never fond of me. I think in her mind, she thought I might one day plot against Robb out of envy. But as a boy, what I wanted most was to know my mother, and to know a mother’s love.”

 

Daenerys brushes her thumb against his knuckles in a quiet apology.

 

“I don’t know anything about her,” Jon continues. “Whether she is highborn or lowborn. Dead or alive. Most of all, if she ever even loved me.”

 

“She must have,” Daenerys says resolutely, remembering her Rhaego. 

 

Jon shrugs half-heartedly. Perhaps she loved him, perhaps she never wanted him.

 

“I, I had a son,” Daenerys reveals, in an effort to make him understand. “He didn’t live. I never even got to see him or hold him in my arms, but I loved him just the same. I cannot imagine willingly giving him up. I cannot imagine a mother who would.”

 

Something inside her snaps as she relives the memory. A pain as devastating as the first time she felt it, only compounded by the recollection of all the loses she has suffered. She cannot contain the sob that breaks through.

 

Jon’s arms wrap around her, clutching so dearly like his life depends on it. She eases into his chest and lets the tears gather. 

 

They stand together for a while, until raindrops begin to fall.

 

“We should go back,” Jon whispers into her ear. Daenerys nods and begins to disentangle from his arms.

 

She stretches out her hand and stares at the raindrops that collect into small puddles.

 

“I was born in a storm, did you know that?”

 

He is contemplative, mulling her question over.

 

“Daenerys Stormborn,” he answers.

 

“I have had many names in my life but that is my fondest.”

 

“Why?”

 

“My mother gave it to me. This ring on my finger and this name, they are all I have of her. And I will cherish them till the day I die.”

 

The rain falls harder. He urges her inside but she asks for a moment. She shuts her eyes and lets the rain wash over her. 

 

He watches in a daze.

 

The fire, it calls to her like it is her kin. But right now, it is water that singes her skin.

 

She feels it in her bones. 

 

For every fire must eventually die, before it is lit anew.

  
  



	6. Post-S7: Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany shares a painful memory from her past with Jon and comes to a realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning that the chapter discusses rape but there is nothing graphic.

She quickly realises that Jon is a generous lover. 

 

He is eager to learn and even keener to please.  

 

Sometimes, his touch is delicate. Other times, it has the hunger of a wolf.  

 

Always, it is tender.

 

Tonight, he is urgent and desperate. Relentless in his pursuit of her, and their pleasure together.

 

It happens in such a rush.

 

One moment he is above her, lips crashing against hers, hands roaming across her body.

 

Her head is so intoxicated with the feeling of him that she doesn’t register being flipped onto her stomach.

 

It feels good at first. The sturdy weight of his body on top her. His lips kissing along the nape of her neck, then drawing a steady line down her back.

 

But the longer he lingers, the more her mind drifts.

 

Suddenly, it’s all too much.

 

Dark memories,  _ painful memories _ , come rushing to the forefront. She is not here on this ship, but on the Dothraki plains. An unwilling participant, powerless against Drogo’s iron grip.

 

“No,” she murmurs. It’s quiet at first, impossible for Jon to hear. 

 

She tries to force herself to forget Drogo and focus on Jon, pressed close against her. His hot breath against her ear, uncontrollable grunts and curses uttered mindlessly. But the pit of anxiety in her stomach grows and grows. 

 

“ _ No, _ ” she repeats, louder this time. She struggles involuntarily, trying to turn around.

 

Finally, Jon notices. The instant that he senses her distress, he’s scrambling away.

 

“Daenerys,” he checks in panic, a hand gingerly reaching for her shoulder

 

She’s curled into the bed now, tearings falling down her face and legs pulled up to her chest. She jumps at his touch, the anxiety still taking grip of her.

 

Jon pulls his hand away, observing her in agony. He doesn’t know what to do.

 

“Daenerys,” he says again, softer this time. 

 

She tilts her head towards him, her cries calming down.

 

“It’s okay,” she replies unsteadily. “I, just, I’ll be okay, I need a moment.”

 

He looks back hopelessly, but nods nevertheless. He removes himself from the bed, putting his breeches back on. He finds the pitcher of wine and prepares two cups. When he turns back to check on Daenerys, he finds her sitting up and wearing her silk robe.

 

She gives him a reassuring smile and he pads over to the bed with the cups of wine. He sits on the edge, afraid of upsetting her again. They drink the wine in silence, despite the many questions whirling in his mind.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says at last.

 

“Why are  _ you _ sorry?” he rebukes. “If anyone should be apologising--”

 

“No, no. It’s not your fault. It wasn’t you that made me…” Her voice drifts away, eyes growing dim and timid.

 

He reaches for her hand, desperate to console her. She accepts his touch, finding comfort in its warmth.

 

“What happened?” he asks gently.

 

“It was nothing,” she brushes aside.

 

“It was not  _ nothing _ .”

 

“It was so long ago,” she says. They are quiet for a time. He sits there holding her hands, letting her mind work through it. 

 

She hates thinking of the past, finding more pain than joy in it.

 

Moon of his life she had become, but in those terrible days before, she had felt so worthless, absent of power and strength. 

 

She has tried to forget. To keep these pieces of her past locked away. It has always seemed easier that way. Maybe, she debates, there is comfort in confiding.

 

“At the beginning of my marriage to Drogo, he wasn’t kind,” she reveals. She stalls for a moment, takes a gulp of air. A dragon is hostage to no one, she tells herself, and certainly not to memories from a distant past. So she faces Jon, eyes steely and dangerously resolute. 

 

“He used to rape me. And always like that, from the behind. ”

 

“ _ Dany _ ,” Jon’s voice breaks, full of emotion. “Gods, I can’t believe I--”

 

“You didn’t know,” she interjects. An eerie sense of calm coming over her as he unravels.

 

She holds his chin, lifting his eyes to meet hers, so that he can see she means this. 

 

“I don’t blame you,” she tells him again. Next to his obvious fury, he looks afraid.

 

“I would never hurt you,” Jon promises.  

 

“I know,” Dany murmurs back, pulling him closer.

 

“I would kill that bastard, if he wasn’t already dead,” he growls.

 

She presses her palms against his clenched fist.

 

He shuts his eyes, slowing his anger to a still.

 

“I wish he never hurt you. I wish you never had to go through half the shit that you did,” he says.

 

She wishes that too, for both of them.

 

“After a while, it wasn’t so bad,” she replies. She looks up at him with a weary look. “Do you want to know a sad truth? This world that we live in, it doesn’t matter if a woman is brilliant. Cunning or brave. Nine times out of ten, she can achieve more with her body than anything else. I got the fearsome Khal Drogo to care for me, and all because I fucked him the right way.”

 

Jon is quiet, looking as sad as she feels.

 

“I thought you said,” he tries to remember the conversation they had all those moons ago at Dragonstone. “You told me you loved him.” 

 

His silent question lingers between them.  _ How could you love him? _

 

“I was just a girl, then. Drogo chained me but then he gave me strength. I was a Khaleesi. For the first time in my life, I had power.” Dany sighs deeply, “All I had ever known for love was a brother who had long stopped caring for me. What did I know of love?”

 

_ Will I ever know love? _ Daenerys wonders. The ones that the bards sing off.

 

Men have claimed to love her. But Daario only saw a Dragon Queen and Jorah misunderstood her affection for a love that could never be.

 

“He did not deserve you,” Jon declares definitively.

 

“No, perhaps not,” she says softly. Her hand presses against the crest shaped scar that marrs his chest. Drogo died from less, she absently thinks. Drogo would have never taken a knife for his people either.

 

She grazes his pale skin, until her fingers come to rest on his cheek.

 

Jon cups her face, his eyes brimming with devout affection.

 

“You are incredible. Strong. Fierce. Kind,” he punctuates each word firmly. “You inspire hope in those who have long lost it. You deserve only the best.”

 

Jon looks at her so soulfully, speaks with such sincerity, she thinks this has to be love.

 

Pure, honest and absolute.

 

She gives him a smile. It is sweetness and innocence personified. 

 

She is certain. 

 

He is her one to love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tremendous thank you to everyone who has stuck with this fic. 
> 
> Now, I suspect some of you were expecting something maybe bit more romantic or fluffy as a 7x07 missing scene. I didn't go that route because I had nothing new to contribute; lots of fics have covered the first kiss, boatsex and more. But Dany sharing some of her trauma was stuck in my mind and here we are. Hope it did not disappoint too much!
> 
> This feels like a natural conclusion point to this fic. I have some other one-shot ideas that you can expect some time in the future.
> 
> Thank you again for all the support!

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are most lovely.


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